


The Newlywed Game (Not What You'd Think)

by late for armageddon (vaulttec)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Drinking, Drinking Games, F/M, Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Withdrawal, descriptions of withdrawal, feeling of falling, newt and anathema get married but this ain't about them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2020-12-28 13:07:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21137198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vaulttec/pseuds/late%20for%20armageddon
Summary: No sauntering, no free-diving. An innocent game reveals a six thousand year old secret that no one was prepared to discuss.





	The Newlywed Game (Not What You'd Think)

“It was very kind of you to have it outdoors,” Aziraphale commented with a warm smile.

The newlyweds shared a look, their attention falling on Crowley. “Well,” began Newt, “we figured if we wanted... _all_ of our fellow cohorts to attend, we should have it somewhere that… allowed for that.”

The demon raised his drink in thanks, taking a sip after. “Only felt some tingles as the pastor passed by. Nothing I couldn’t handle.” 

The small lot of them - Aziraphale and Crowley, and the newlyweds Anathema and Newton, had left the venue itself after the other guests had parted ways and were more comfortably dressed in the living room of Jasmine Cottage. Rather than associate the day with the near end of the world, the two of them had decided to make their wedding that same day the next year - much to the delight of everyone that had an idea of just what had happened 365 days prior.

“So we’re going to bring out the good stuff now, right?” Crowley rolled his head to look at Aziraphale, who was sitting in another chair next to him and nursing what was left of a glass of champagne he had brought with them from the reception hall.

“Oh! Yes, quite right.” He reached behind the chair he sat upon, pulling from nowhere a vintage bottle of scotch. “I’d consider it a wedding gift, but I do believe if Crowley doesn’t get any he might pout.”

“Pout? I don’t pout.” As if to prove his point and failing miserably, the demon did indeed pout, looking from the angel to the couple, holding up his empty glass. “Can’t party without alcohol, hm?”

\---

Some hours and quite a few drinks later, the four of them were delightfully drunk and sharing stories about what the past year had been like for them. The supernatural odd couple (only in the most basic definition of the term, _one of them_ would admit ruefully) had begun sharing a cottage in South Downs, spending most of the time trying to find a harmony between their shared interests that tended to take up more room than either could have anticipated. Newton and Anathema had managed to purchase Jasmine Cottage with some… suggestive intervention from their remaining wedding guests, met respective mums, and started a prophecy-free life together. All in all, very storybook.

The drunken evening took an interesting turn, a game of ‘Truth or - well, I guess, just truth really’ beginning about an hour ago at Newt’s behest. In an effort to learn more about the pair that had helped divert Armageddon, he’d pitched the idea. The angel and demon, more than happy to talk about themselves at length to an unbiased and very pleasant audience, had taken every question thus far in stride; answering to the best of their inebriated abilities and filling the heads of the two humans with fantastic recounted tales.

Until a rather sobering question was laid on the table.

“You’re… You’re a fallen angel, right, Mister Crowley?” Newt, who was a bit of a messy drunk but still mostly polite (if entirely tactless) had began, “what was… What was that like?” 

Suddenly nearing stone-cold sobriety at lightning speed, Aziraphale sputtered a little into the drink he’d been trying to sip, quickly wiping his mouth and looking over at the demon worriedly as an uneasy silence settled over them. It was a topic even _he_ hadn’t heard about. “Ah. I. I’m not sure if that’s-”

“S’alright.” Crowley reached across the table, topping off his glass nearly to the brim before taking a deep drink. “Game’s a game, right? Have to play fair.” 

For all his vague descriptions, between sauntering vaguely downward and doing a free dive into a boiling pit of sulphur, neither were entirely accurate. And for all his colourful descriptions it did nothing in the way of describing just how it felt to him. He wasn’t sure there _were_ words to describe it. How it had left him entirely bereft of emotions for a time, and how the turnaround between Heaven and Hell was so unfairly short he hadn’t had the opportunity to process it fully before being foisted into his duties.

“Crowley, you really don’t have to.” Anathema’s words second-handedly reprimanded Newt, who shrunk into his seat on the couch next to her. She looked across the table at the demon. “You can ask a question instead. Or... We can play something else.” She smiled helpfully, and Crowley only shook his head, taking another drink.

“The man wanted to know, Anathema. May as well _humor_ him.”

Three voices chimed up with a “but-”, and the demon interrupted them.

“Imagine… Imagine… Having something you depend on, in your life. Not like a spouse or… or a pet or parent or guardian.” A hand waved vaguely. “Something that’s always there.” He paused, swirling his glass and staring off thoughtfully. “Like a schedule. Or _time._ The sunrise, the sunset. The stars in the sky. You know they’re there, no matter what happens. They are always there for you, even if they don’t notice you.” He heard Aziraphale shift uncomfortably next to him, and he glanced over. “You don’t have to stay, angel. Newt asked, not you.”

Aziraphale swallowed a rather large mouthful of alcohol, shaking his head and steeling his resolve. “No, no. I’ll. I’ll stay.” His curiosity was morbid in every sense of the word. More than anything, he wanted to understand this facet of Crowley that he’d gone so long without knowing. And he did his best to show this with a brave, if small smile.

The demon nodded slowly, looking back into his glass before continuing.

“Then imagine that it’s gone. It doesn’t run out, like an hourglass, nah. It’s very sudden. Very cut and dry. One moment it’s there, and even if you’re expecting it to vanish, it does. And it still surprises you. This thing that had been beside you, with you and within you for so long is gone. You had depended on it. And the instant it’s gone you _crave_ it. You _need_ it, you need it to be there with you and around you and you know you _can’t have it_ to fill the void it left within you.” Hand curled around his glass tighter, feeling the sensation he’d pushed aside for so, so long creep back into him. It was as if he were freshly fallen all over again, but he continued on. For the sake of the game. And maybe for the sake of being able to finally let _go_. “Your whole body aches for it. You shiver and shake and try to find other things that can replace what you lost, the _feeling_ that thing gave you. The safety and comfort. The stability.”

The silence in the room was tense. And Crowley hadn’t yet noticed he’d had the entire room’s very rapt, very mortified attention.

“ ...There’s hopelessness, yeah. There’s fear and anger. You’re _mad_ that you lost this thing even though you know it’s your own damn fault for losing it to begin with.”

Aware of the taste in his mouth after a moment, he ran his tongue over his teeth and shook his head, letting out a long breath into his glass as he finished it off. Anathema rose almost mechanically to refill it without him asking.

“...I think the worst part is knowing you can’t get it back. You can be angry all you want, scream and cry and wish and beg but it’s not coming back. You lost it. S’all on you. You said the wrong things, asked questions to the wrong people and you’re-”

“It’s like withdrawal,” Newton interjected quietly, and all eyes were on him suddenly. Crowley’s, most intensely, peered over his shades. The boy swallowed nervously, dipping his head a little. “...S - ah. Sounds like it. Not - not like I’ve-” He looked at a concerned Anathema. “Not _me_. I’ve read things. ...On the internet.”

Crowley licked his lips and tapped his glass and canted his head back and forth. “Heaven withdrawals.” He scoffed quietly, but the attitude slipped away quickly. “I suppose it’s like that. Feeling that you’re _missing_ something you desperately need.” Not as though the demon had ever been hooked on an illicit substance in his entire life, but he knew things. Demons always knew things about stuff like that. He’d just never thought of it that way. “Feeling as if you could just sense it, once more, just a taste - everything would be alright.”

He finally sighed softly, just a breath, taking a drink and letting the alcohol burn his tongue for a moment before swallowing. 

“It burns you. From the inside out, it burns. Knowing something for so long, and then having the feeling of comfort and love and safety stripped from you in a moment, and needing it back like nothing else…” He felt Aziraphale’s hand on his knee, but didn’t look at it. “You cope. For all of ten minutes before you get shoved at Beelzebub and get told to head to Eden, chop chop.” 

The hand left his knee and he did look this time, over at Aziraphale, who had placed it open-palmed over his own chest in shock. “You. When we. You had just -” 

“Few days.” Crowley nodded slowly, watching his reactions. “From being put there, yeah. Few days at least. Worst of it was over. Had a nice distraction with the temptation. You helped.” Their eyes met and Crowey was quiet for a few long moments. “Robbed of faith and love, I met you. And you helped.” 

Having another being to devote attention to that wasn’t intent on making his life literally living Hell did wonders for him. It helped tremendously that - “You filled that void, Aziraphale.” He was practically staring now, leaning in close. “You were my Heaven. What they took from me I found in you. I didn’t - I didn’t even ask. But you gave me love. Even if you didn’t know it.“ He broke eye contact, shaking his head, turning back normally and leaning over, elbows on his knees. 

Across the table, Newt and Anathema had been rendered speechless, but had no idea what to say. There were no words they could offer for comfort, no personal anecdotes to supply. 

“Crowley, I had no idea.” Aziraphale shook his head slowly, hand lifting to cover his mouth. “I thought… I thought it had been at least…”

“You know how time works, angel. All…” Glass between his knees, he lifted his hands to wave them around, wiggling his fingers. “Wibbly. Fluid. Especially before Eden. For all anything knew it could have been years. Centuries, even. But it could have been three seconds and it would have felt the same, I think.” 

Aziraphale swallowed, nodding silently. 

“But I’m sorry, Aziraphale.” The demon let six thousand years’ worth of subtle guilt sink into his bones, finally realizing something as he let himself really _think_ about what had happened when he fell. “I think at first I was just drawn to you for the second-hand faith you gave me. You deflected me beautifully, all things considered. Too much of a good thing, and all that.” Body slouched back in the chair, glass falling to the floor. Aziraphale snapped quickly to slow it down, and it only _thunked_ against the carpet quietly as Crowley, blissfully unaware, pulled off his glasses to rub at his eyes. “But I didn’t know if it was _you_ or the aura I liked.” Suddenly sitting upright again, he leaned in close once more, taking up the angel’s hand. “At first. I didn’t know at first. It’s you. It didn’t take me long to figure it out. I promise it’s you.”

Mixed emotions swirled on the angel’s face, and in his head. It was a bit of an odd feeling, wondering for an extremely brief moment if Crowley’s attention on him had been solely because he got his ‘fix’ of faith from him. But the look in the demon’s eyes, the way he held his hand, pleaded with essentially every fiber of his form that it _wasn’t_ the case… He reached to set down his drink, holding Crowley’s hand with both of his own. He believed him. Everything the demon had ever done for him. When Aziraphale had lied to him, avoided him, _fought_ with him, and he still came back. After six thousand years, heartache changed a person. Changed a demon. All those flashes of pure love he felt from him… They weren’t just for a fix. Quite gently, he squeezed the drunken demon’s hand. “I know, Crowley.” Even now, the love that oozed from him assured him ten times over. If he’d ever questioned Crowley’s devotion, it wasn’t because of his status, or what the angel felt he might be lacking. “I know.” 

As if he hadn’t dug himself a deep enough hole, Crowley continued. “You filled it and then some. You gave me a surplus. It turned into what I felt _from_ you so, so quickly into what I felt _for_ you.” Hand curled tightly around one of Aziraphale’s, grasp trembling somewhat. “It felt so new. Having gone from being made of love to actually feeling it for myself, for someone _else_ \- I’d have never needed to be an angel if I knew I could have feelings that strong, even as a demon. I don’t _need_ to be an angel as long as I have you.” 

This was turning into a confession more and more by the second, and Aziraphale wondered, cheeks pink, if they should take this somewhere more… _private_ to continue. He glanced over to the newlyweds with a nervous little smile, and both of them merely shook their heads, sipping what was left in their glasses. As if enjoying the show. “Crowley,” he began softly, a hand leaving the warm grasp to gently stroke his hair, “would you like to go somewhere quieter and continue this conversation? I believe you have fulfilled Newton’s request rather splendidly.”

“No,” Crowley replied stubbornly, stamping the heel of his boot against the floor, “it’s my turn now.” 

The angel’s brows pinched in confusion. “Your turn…?”

“Yes.” Crowley sat up again, in that weirdly _sinewy_ way of his, unrelentingly gripping the angel's hand. Body turned as much as it was able to face him, eyes naked and glassy, studying Aziraphale. “Truth or truth. Do you love me?”

The look that crossed Aziraphale’s face then was that of pure, dumbfounded _astonishment._ “My dear. Do you realize what _nonsense_ you’re asking?” Crowley’s expression fell, and the angel couldn’t help a very untimely chuckle. “Of _course_ I do.” Damage control time. “I thought it would have been obvious to you by now. All these years - Ah… _Crowley.”_ A fond sigh, and he placed his hand once again on his knee warmly. “I knew that when I met you you were missing something. Something about you… You were different. You were unlike any demon I’d ever met. Or would ever meet. And as part of my nature, I wanted to help you through that. I _wanted_ to fill that void falling left in you. The feeling I gave you… You apologize for it, thinking you took _advantage_ of me. Love is what I have and _choose_ to give. I have chosen to give it to you and continue to do so even beyond my nature. And I can only hope you continue to let me. I…” He lost a bit of steam, considering his own feelings on how the past six thousand years had gone on his end. (And he’d also been participating in the consumption of alcohol, which did not help his thought process go quite as smoothly as he would have liked.) “You weren’t the only one benefitting, my dearest one. I found in you what Heaven never gave to me. It is as you say. Heaven can be a steady constant in your life. It can make you feel things. But it doesn’t always reciprocate.” He kissed his knuckles very gently, smiling against them. “You _are_ my Heaven, Crowley. All the love I could ever want or need.” 

The demon’s face contorted in an ugly way, sunglasses quickly shoved back onto his face as he turned away. He cleared his throat. Twice. Swallowed. Took a breath, let it out. “Right.” He didn’t - he wasn’t sure what he was expecting the angel to say. Probably not that. Maybe not _like_ that, some sort of confessional had in the living room of two of their friends. “It’s your turn, then.”

This made the angel chuckle again, squeezing his hand as he stood and gently suggesting with a tug that the demon join him. “I believe that it’s time for us to let the new couple get to their evening together, hm?” And he looked down at Crowley, more warmth in his smile and heart than he’d felt in some time. He was still floored by some of the things he’d learned. His heart hurt for him. But knowing, overall, what had happened, and what had happened _because_ of it… There wasn’t much room for remorse. Things had worked out for them, in the end.

The demon stood, a little unsteady on his feet, giving a lazy salute to Anathema and Newt as Aziraphale led them out of the cottage. Arm in arm, they passed the Bentley, heading towards the bus stop instead, as neither were fit to drive. Crowley’s head rest on his shoulder, making for an uneven walk, but the angel didn’t mind. “S’still your turn,” Crowley mumbled, feeling a little drained. A little drained. A little humbled. Warm and tingly, on top of it all. And he wouldn’t pin the blame for that on alcohol first.

Aziraphale, almost shyly, placed a little kiss in his hair with a smile. He felt quite similarly. Oh, sure. Maybe it wasn’t what he’d exactly wanted to express. Eloquence escaped him, sometimes at the worst moments. But his point had gotten across, evident in Crowley’s reaction and actions now, and it was something that he’d very dearly love to discuss in the space that they’d claimed for themselves, and made their own. A cottage, full of shared interests and time spent together. A place filled with something they could both mutually assure one another was _love._ “It can be my turn at home.”

The demon hummed softly. “It is a home, innit. S’where the heart is and all.” 

Aziraphale felt warmth bloom in his chest at that, and couldn’t agree more.

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you have enjoyed my own personal headcanon about falling!
> 
> _please leave comments/kudos if you enjoy my work and would like to see more from me! and find me on tumblr at @heavenslittlehellion !_


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